


Where you are

by protaganope



Series: Sub!Thomas [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Hair-pulling, Hatesex, M/M, Multi, Threesome - M/M/M, in this fic you see a sub a switch and a top it’s like i’ve collected the whole set, or an attempt at it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 18:57:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16708156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/protaganope/pseuds/protaganope
Summary: And the two of them are selfish. They take and take and offer nothing up in return. No compromise.





	Where you are

**Author's Note:**

  * For [waitfor_it](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waitfor_it/gifts).



He’s not sure who instigated this.

They were arguing— of course they were arguing, it was all they did— and one thing led to another and before Thomas knew it he was on his feet, so was Hamilton, and they’re sort of just… inside each other’s space. Breathing the same air, eyes alight and muscles tight with adrenaline.

Washington calls for them to break for a recess and they storm out of the office room, all strung up. No one is happy with this.

Thomas is making his way back to his desk when a hand pulls him in from a closet. He pushes down the involuntary sound of protest at being so roughly handled, and meets the gaze of his assailant.

It’s Hamilton. Of-fucking-course it is.

The closet isn’t lit well and that somehow makes his emotions fester tenfold, and he snatches the hand on his shoulder away in a swift movement, yanking Hamilton forward into him. A strange, chirping sort of panic escapes the man’s mouth as he is thrust forward, and their teeth clack together as they find themselves… inexplicably… kissing.

No.

This isn’t a kiss. This holds no romance.

As though to prove this, Hamilton bites Thomas’ tongue and he can feel the smirk against his skin as the immigrant witnesses his recoil. Hamilton puts a hand behind his head, too, as though to trap him there, but Thomas refuses to let him. Using his height to his advantage, he cants his knee up between Hamilton’s legs, unbalances him and it is his turn to enjoy the other man’s discomfort.

Throwing him onto the floor, seeing his eyes widen as his lungs empty and then sealing off any chance of him recovering air with his own mouth threatens to get Thomas giddy. He finds joy in leaving bruises over the man’s throat once he struggles free. He knows he’s bigger, stronger than Hamilton in most ways, and uses this to his advantage as he presses all his weight onto him, always pressing, never lenient.

And the two of them are selfish. They take and take and offer nothing up in return. No compromise.

He breaks the button on Hamilton’s pants and doesn’t bother to utter apology. That’s fine. Hamilton nearly breaks Thomas’ zipper in his haste. The lack of care to this should worry him, but somehow it feels right in a way that he can’t quite place, so he doesn't.

Thomas’s blood is hot and powering him beyond sense and he is glad for it.

Shirts both gone, and Thomas rather wickedly twists Hamilton’s nipples in a fierce movement, savouring the jump and lashing out the man makes at the action.

Hamilton shudders out his name, loud and halfway to wrecked, and then yells out at least eleven other maybe-expletives-maybe-Thomas’-name as Thomas forms a fist and makes Hamilton fuck into his hand. Dares to laugh as he mumbles talk of coming. It’s cruel, all sharp edges, like broken shards of glass, but it makes Alexander’s moans all the more sweeter when he goes faster.

In all honesty, Thomas doesn’t care if Hamilton comes or not, and he doesn’t think Hamilton cares either. They’re not like this for love. This pursuit is born purely from frustration, a means to an end.

And Thomas revels in this. He pulls his hand away, ignores Hamilton’s protest, and pushes Alex’s face to his dick. Nurses his cock down Hamilton’s throat, listening to the other man’s noises as he takes what he can (and then some) brings him a pleasure he never thought he could garner. Hamilton rakes one hand of nails down Thomas’ back and he lurches, clamping his mouth shut at the sound threatening to surface. He pulls Hamilton’s hair, knotting it as he threads his fingers under, close to the scalp. The moan that rips forth from Hamilton is a delicious mix of pleasure and pain that Thomas takes no shame in delighting at. He bites another hickey into the inside of Hamilton’s wrist and ponders his next move.

But then the door to the closet opens, and he remembers where they are.

Washington flicks the lightswitch on with one easy hand, takes in their circumstance with an unreadable expression.

Then, “What is the meaning of this?”

Hamilton’s skin flushes, curiously. The dots connect in Thomas’ head a beat later and he realises the potential for what he has uncovered. But there’s one small problem. Washington advances forward, nearing the two of them with a hidden intent, but his gaze seems to be quite irrefutably fixed on Thomas rather than Hamilton.

This wouldn’t be good.

Washington has thick, warm hands, with tough skin spread on the palms, and Thomas is reminded of this as the taller man pushes his fingers through his curls and tightens his grip. He pulls him up slightly, reminds him of his inferiority, and Thomas can’t help the slight whimper that escapes his throat. Washington lets out a quiet chuckle as Thomas visibly fights a shudder.

It’s not fair.

Hamilton’s stare burns into his skin, and Thomas wants to snap at him, remind him just who dominated him moments before. But he can’t. Not with Washington’s precedence here.

He supposes it’s surprising, to witness the switch in intent. Why does it set such fire in his veins, to be witnessed exhibiting such? When Washington moves behind him, pulls him backwards, he can’t really disobey.

His voice comes out in a half-aborted moan as the taller man pumps his dick in a tenderness that‘s just embarrassing. 


End file.
